


The Way It Goes

by La_Pacifidora



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 11:17:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1224283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/La_Pacifidora/pseuds/La_Pacifidora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things were looking up: Everything was going to be fine.</p><p>And then it <i>wasn’t</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Way It Goes

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at [Milady/Milord on LJ in December 2011](http://milady-milord.livejournal.com/641934.html). Unbeta'd.
> 
> Spoilers: Everything through 3.10, but nothing specific
> 
> Disclaimers: Not mine. Although I think Dan Harmon knows this friend of mine and based Troy on her… 
> 
> Author’s note: I don’t know exactly where this came from: I wanted to write something fluffy and happy because real life is kicking my ass lately, but this came out instead. It’s cheesy. It’s dripping in sentimentality. It’s the sort of thing I deem mushy and try to avoid. But writing it made me feel a little bit better, and I hope y’all will indulge me in that much. One more thing: We Are Greendale.

It didn’t seem real. None of it seemed real.

Annie shivered in the early morning chill and shifted from one side to the other as she tucked her hands under her thighs, drawing the remaining heat from the hood of her car as the engine cooled. She stared across the parking lot at the darkened windows and the empty breezeways. 

They beat City College – not just once or twice, but three times in the last two years. They’d filmed a brand-spanking-new commercial only, what, two? Three weeks ago? The board of trustees had approved it, hadn’t they? They even saved the Christmas concert. There was no question that it counted for something; that the love – or, at least, thinly veiled resignation – the students had for this place mattered.

Things were looking up: Everything was going to be fine.

And then it _wasn’t_.

Dean Pelton said it was a “minor” attendance problem. He said it was only going to be for a little while.

(Annie tried not to think about how her mother said her father was moving out only for “a little while.” That was seven years ago; her parents had been divorced for six years, four months and – she thought for a moment – 10 days.)

And, sure, other organizations that had been forced to shut down due to budget issues had bounced back. The state of Minnesota came back - mostly. Pennsylvania had come back, sort of, when it shut down in 2007. The federal government shut down – _twice_ – when she was a kid, and it was still going. 

There was even that town with the name she couldn’t remember in Indiana – or was it Illinois? - had come back, pretty spectacularly if the articles she’d read were any indication. 

It was the vagueness of the board’s decision that scared her, though: Greendale was going to be closed for a few months.

Intellectually, Annie knew that a ‘few’ meant more than a ‘couple’ but less than ‘several.’

But Annie was not a spontaneous person: She planned ahead. She scheduled. She ticked things off a color-coded ‘To Do’ list and kept to a timetable.

“Hey.” Britta’s voice at her elbow startled Annie from her thoughts and she looked over at her friend, who held out a large cup from a gas station down the road, a wisp of steam escaping through the opening in the lid. “I thought I’d find you here.”

“You did?”

“Because you’re the only person – _Ooof_.” Brita huffed as she climbed onto the hood of Annie’s car and settled. “Because you’re the only person I know who would show up the day _after_ the last final exam out of sentimentality.”

“Oh.” Annie’s cheeks, already flush from the cold, darkened and she tucked some hair behind her ear.

“Yeah.” Britta took a sip from her own cup, grimacing at the taste of the cooling coffee, then tucked the cup between her knees and tugged her knit cap lower around her ears. She glanced over at the brunette, who was running her thumb nail around the edge of the lid, and nudged Annie with her elbow. “And I thought you might want some company.”

“Oh.” Annie sipped her own coffee and scrunched her nose in distaste, choosing instead to wrap her hands around the cup for warmth. She looked over at the blonde. “Thanks.”

“No probs, Bobs.”

The two women were silent for several minutes as they sat side by side and stared at the empty building. Movement to one side drew their attention, and they watched as a dark-colored town car pulled into the slot next to Annie’s. The engine cut out, and Pierce climbed from the driver’s seat and walked around so he leant against the hood of his car. He pulled a hip flask from the pocket of his tweed blazer and opened it, tipping it in their direction in salutation.

“Ladies.”

“Pierce.” Britta and Annie responded in union, raising their own cups in his direction.

They heard Shirley before they saw her, her voice stern as she told her sons not to get underfoot and not to wander off. She came from behind them, a thermos in one hand and a foil-covered plate balanced on the other.

“I made breakfast cookies!” She set the thermos next to Annie, and peeled back the foil, revealing brown, misshapen lumps with nuts sprinkled over the top.

“Um.” “Well.” Annie and Britta exchanged skeptical looks.

“They have chocolate chips.”

“OK!” Annie reached for one and sniffed it, nodding in approval when she took a bite. “Ish good.”

“There isn’t any meat in it, is there?” Britta took one and held it at a distance between two fingers, eyeing it like it was something that had come out of her cat.

“Gosh, Britta, I forgot to put the ground beef in this batch.” Shirley shook her head and fished a napkin from her purse for Annie. “Guess you’ll just have to eat it.” She crossed to Pierce, who took a cookie, looked at it from all angles, popped the entire thing in his mouth and promptly choked on it.

“Hmm.” Britta chewed thoughtfully. “It _is_ good.” She shrugged when Annie gave her a disbelieving look. “How was I supposed to know it would taste just like a regular cookie?”

“Uh, because Shirley made it, and she’s yet to make anything you _wouldn’t_ eat? Move over.” Jeff said as he approached and slid onto the hood of Annie’s car on her other side, swirling the last dregs of his Starbucks cup before draining it. “Is Pierce dying?” He waited while Annie and Britta leaned forward to look around him and watched Shirley pound the older man on the back.

“I don’t think so.”

“OK.” Jeff nodded once and reached for Annie’s cup.

“Wait-!”

“Then I’ve done my duty as his emergency con- _holy crap_.” Jeff sputtered as he held the cup away from him, wiping his mouth on his sleeve when Annie took it back from him. He glared at the cup, then at Annie. “What the hell is that sludge?”

“Britta bought it.” Annie replied quickly, jerking her thumb at the blonde.

“Hey!”

“That figures.”

“We brought coffee!” Troy announced, holding up a cardboard container and a sleeve of cups as he and Abed approached from across the parking lot. Abed nodded and held up a gallon jug of a dark liquid.

“And special drink.” He held up a bag of plastic party cups.

“Great.” Jeff muttered under his breath as he leaned toward Annie. “Caffeine or tooth decay.”

“Shut up.” Annie scoffed and bumped him with her shoulder.

In ones and two and larger groups, the student body of Greendale Community College trickled into the parking lot. By some unspoken agreement, they came.

They came with packages of cookies. They came with boxes of donuts. They came with bags of mini-bagels.

They came with lawn chairs and picnic blankets. They came with Nerf footballs and sidewalk chalk.

The cheerleading team brought ribbons in the school colors and started going round, tying them to car antennae.

The chess club came with signs printed up to look like name tags with funny sayings and passed them out for people to put in their cars or windows.

The campus security officers arrived, out of uniform and looking at the growing crowd suspiciously, but a cup of coffee and Shirley’s remaining breakfast cookies soon put them at ease. Somewhere toward the back of the parking lot, someone’s car radio was tuned to a local station known for playing Christmas music 24-hours-a-day from Thanksgiving till 1 a.m. December 26.

“This is weird.” Annie broke the silence of the study group, gathered on and around their cars. She glanced over at Britta, who had scooted back against the windshield and was resting her head against Troy’s leg where he sat on the roof of Annie’s car. “It’s weird, right?”

“Totally.” Britta replied, playing with the fringe of her scarf.

“If this were a mid-season finale –” Abed began

“Which assumed life is TV and it’s _not_.” Jeff interjected.

“Right, but if it were, I wonder what music would be playing as the camera swung away from us on a crane to show a shot of the entire parking lot as it faded out on a lens flare as the sun comes up over the building?”

“Dude.” Troy looked up from the game he was playing on Jeff’s cell phone. “Should I be worried you’ve put this much thought into what this would look like?”

“No.” Abed tilted his head to one side as he leaned back on his hands and looked up from his seat on the ground between Annie and Pierce’s cars. “For one thing, as the camera pulled away, something unexpected, but which was actually a callback to a recurring gag, would happen.”

“NOOOOO!” Chang came skidding to a stop in front of them, bending forward to brace his hands on his knees as he panted. He glanced over at them, his normally manic features slack. “Tha-Tha-That _monkey_.” He pointed toward the far side of the parking lot. “Took keys. Won’t come. Need keys.” He straightened and wiped a hand over his face, accepting a cup of special drink Abed poured for him. He gulped it down and handed it back to Abed as he looked around at the crowd. “Man. This is weird.” He looked back at the study group. “This is weird, right?”

“Totally.” Jeff replied as he stretched and shifted.

“It’s almost like everyone agreed to show up here this morn-” A piercing shriek interrupted Chang’s observation. “Oh _no_. Monkey! Here monkey!” He started to jog toward the cheerleaders. He turned at the last moment and called back to Troy. “What’s it called again?”

“Annie’s Boobs.” Troy answered without looking up. “Duh doy.” He shifted when Britta snorted and then whooped. “High score! Beat that.” He passed Jeff’s phone down to Britta, who took the device and started tapping on the screen.

“I think it would be something fun and peppy.” Annie said after a few silent minutes. She shrugged when the group looked at her askance. “If this were TV and there was a song playing, it’d be something fun, like, I don’t know. Regina Spektor or Kelly Clarkson.”

“As long as it’s not some indie princess who plays the piano and writes sad, sad songs.” Jeff said, leaning around Annie’s back to look at Britta, who was poking at his phone and muttering quietly.

“I think it’d be something fun.” Shirley sipped her coffee, looking over at her boys, who were playing with the children of some other students. “ Maybe something Motown?”

“I think it’d be Buddy Holly.” Abed offered. 

“Or one of those cover songs they did of all that Buddy Holly stuff.” Troy added, his voice muffled as he leaned down to watch Britta’s progress. “No, you need to wait till it’s groups of three or more if you want to get rid of them.”

“More like Buddy Hippie.” Pierce scoffed, tipping a little of his flask’s contents into his coffee cup.

“ _Pierce_.” Annie leaned over Jeff’s lap to glare at the older man. “He died tragically. Have a little respect.”

“Pffft.” Pierce shook his head. “I never understood what the big deal about his music was.”

“Then what would you have playing?” Jeff looked back at Pierce, who shook his head.

“I don’t know.” He took a sip of coffee. “The gays were playing some new music. What about something from that GooGoo woman? The one in the police tape? Or that girl with the whip cream boobs?”

“Eww. Pierce.” Britta gave him a disgusted look, then growled in frustration when the phone beeped at her. “I lost?! How did I lose?”

“Um, you suck at this game?” Jeff asked as he took his phone back and tucked it back into his pocket.

“Well, I love Buddy Holly’s music as much as the next twenty-something-” Britta glared when both Jeff and Shirley scoffed. “As much as the next _twenty-something_ who has adopted the culture of a previous generation in an unironic and totally sincere way, but I think it might be kind of trite if that was playing over our ‘last scene.’” She said, air quotes included, and shrugged.

“Then what you pick?” Annie looked over her shoulder at her friend.

“I don’t know.” Britta tapped her chin with a finger before brightening. “I know! Oh, you guys are going to love this.”

“Spit it out, small boobs.”

“Shut up, Pierce.” Britta said in one breath, then grinned. “OK: Here it is. You’re going to love this.” She held up both her hands and waved them a little. “The Grateful Dead, ‘Not Fade Away.’” She looked around at the blank and disbelieving stares of her friends. “What? It’s the perfect song. Right?”

The group was saved from responding by the approach of a small figure in a dark hooded sweatshirt and jeans. Annie leaned forward a little and gasped.

“Dean Pelton?” She and her friends watched as the figure winced and halted, turning to face them slowly. The hood slid back revealing their dean, who looked a little worse for the wear, with dark circles under his eyes and the beginnings of a Jeff-worthy scruff on his cheeks. He had on an unfamiliar pair of glasses, with thicker frames, and he looked unkempt in a button down, sans tie, fuzzy cardigan, hoodie and jeans. 

“What.” Dean Pelton’s voice came out as a croak, and he nodded his thanks as Shirley passed him a cup of coffee. He drained half of it and tried again. “Wha-what are you doing here?” He looked around at the crowd of students and some faculty, quiet now that his presence had been noticed. In the distance, the car radio tuned to Christmas music went silent. He coughed and spoke again, his voice carrying loudly across the parking lot. “What are you all doing here? Greendale is closed. There’s nothing for you here.”

“Dean.” Annie glanced around at her friends and slipped off the hood of her car, walking toward him. “Where else would we be?” She laid a hand on his arm, stepping back when he shook her off and he gave the assembled group a stern look. 

“You all need to go home.” He coughed as his voice broke on the word ‘home.’ “Greendale is closed until further notice, and you all are trespassing on county property.”

“If it’s county property, it’s publicly held land, the same as a park.” Jeff replied evenly, sitting up straight. “And as there aren’t any signs posted indicating that there are hours where the property is off-limits, we’re not trespassing.”

“Well, you should all still go home.” Dean crumpled his coffee cup in one hand and dropped it to the ground. “There’s nothing here for any of you.” He dropped his gaze to his shoes and ran a hand over his head. “I don’t even know when they’re going to unlock the doors.”

The parking lot was silent for several minutes as the student body, faculty and staff looked at each other in confusion. From a back corner of the parking lot, a lone voice called out a phrase tunelessly. 

“Standing in the bookstore line, waiting for the bell to chime, so you can go to class.”

Another voice picked up the next lyric, and the dean turned his back on them as, out of sync and off-key, the crowd sang the school song.

The study group exchanged concerned looks as they watched Dean Pelton’s shoulders shake slightly, his head bowed. They stood and made their way, standing in a bunch around him.

“Uh. Dean?” Troy spoke quietly. “Are you OK?”

“I-” Dean Pelton took a deep breath and held the back of his hand to his mouth for a moment. “I don’t know that to tell you- them. All of them. I don’t know when we can come back. I don’t know what to say to make this easier.” He took another deep breath. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do without this place, and I don’t know when the chains and locks are coming off the doors.”

The study group members looked at the dean for a minute, then turned their attention to Jeff, who rolled his eyes and shook his head as he stepped forward.

“Just tell them to sit tight.” He looked skyward for a moment before swallowing and patting the dean on the shoulder. “And remember that we’ll be here when the doors are unlocked.”


End file.
